Shatter Me and Unbroken
by EwokMeow
Summary: Sirius Black describes the mongering fear he felt when he was cornered amongst the chaos of dead Muggles and thrown into Azkaban without a trail. Sirius's experience inside the wizard prison, his escape, and break in into Hogwarts. It's his story.
1. Chapter 1

There was chaos everywhere. Muggles strewn across the ground. Bloodied and injured. I stood there my heart pounding furiously. Red and blue lights flashed silently after wailing. The Ministry of Magic is here; they seem to be eradicating and replacing the memories of these Muggles. My heart is pounding. I cannot think straight. I don't know where Peter went. He disappeared. Gone. My heart is racing; pumping blood through my veins at an seemingly extraordinary rate; I can hear it in my ears. They're coming towards me the Ministry. Fuck! They have dementors with them. I cannot move I am frozen in place. My heart is running rampart even more than before.

"Quite stupid to be bring dementors amongst the Muggles," I snarled, putting on a false bravado.

"No worries. No worries. They won't remember a thing." The minister told me. "Now come along, boy. Don't resist now."

I made an attempt to run, but I felt cold filtrate my body. Ice creepy through my veins , I shivered in my place. They were all upon me; they're ominous hooded faces staring into mine. Screaming. Screaming. Pain. Fear. Scared, no not scared, terrified faces staring.

Lily and James in a huge augment. Lily walking away with angry tears down her face. James crying walking in the opposite direction of Lily.

Ice in my lungs with each breath I take. They're dragging me away for something I didn't commit.

Peter is pointing his wand at Muggles, red light blares from his wand, Muggles dying. Terrified faces of those unharmed by the curse. Unwanted death by those whom are.

"Unhand me." I can hear my voice is weak and quiet

"Off you go." The voice I hear sounded so distant.

An arm hooks around mine and I feel the jerk, the unpleasant pull of Apparition, suddenly I'm in Azkaban. Freezing, dark and dreary. It smells like death standing at the shoreline, teasing. It's hand extended to take those with it. Only to pull it's hand away, brushing their fingers.

This wretched place will be worse than death, but I am determined to keep alive. I will one day meet Harry when he's older.

"We lifted the no Apparition in and out of Azkaban for a mere thirty minutes. We can do that you know? It takes quiet the workload, but in your case; it's quiet with it."

My head is down as he is talking to me. I try to turn deaf ears but they are eager to hear his words. I'm innocent but they won't take it. I want a fair trail but they refuse it. Son of a bitch, traitor: Peter Pettigrew shall not get away with this. I'll be sure of that.

"I personally wanted to put you in myself. I have such the pleasure."

The Minister threw me into a small stoned cell, a some slit of a window I can see light filtering through. I can hear the whistling wind and the waves crashing against this forsaken island.

I can hear screaming of agony, I hear crying and whimpering; I hear nothing. Every thing about this place is horrible.

I have sat myself against the wall further from the entrance of the cell. They're gone. No one is here, anyone from the Ministry has left. Good. They can go fuck themselves; they're ignorance and arrogance has blinded them.

The night has been born and the light has died away. The darkness in this place is sinister. It's freezing, I'm shivering; I want to be warm. I want to me happy; sadness is setting in. Sadness is beating down, stabbing, stabbing; suffocating; every torturing curse to come out of a wand berating me.

I cannot sleep I feel such unease in this place. Death loves to tease in here; taunting for one to take its hand and crossover to the other side. I think I can hear it laughing and it's only my first night. Laughing as it welcomes the remainder of life left in those who want to die.

I'm hungry but I cannot eat even if food were to be offered to me at the moment. My body wants to sleep but my brain says no. I'm exhausted from the day's events. The cries in the cells surrounding people does not abate. My heart is being ripped from my chest. The warmth has being torn away from me; doused like a fire. Ice replaces the warmth; the feeling of ice replaces everything.

How long have I been in here? The moon is bright tonight. It's soft light attempts to push through and it weakly succeeds. I can see the dark figure of a Dementor at my cell. And I'm crying because my broom broke. But the damned thing doesn't stay long.

I've been having nothing but horrible thoughts; everything that has happened to me in any negative way.

I fucking didn't deserve this and at this moment my rage is white hot. I want Pettigrew to suffer in here. He does not deserve the name Wormtail. Traitor! Traitor! TRAITOR! TRAITOR! Damn bastard, rot in fucking Hell! Do not feel happiness any longer, son of a bitch traitor! I do not wish Azkaban on anyone but you, Peter, rot in here! Where have you gone?

There's another Dementor making its self present at my cell. I can see the light from the sun spreading it's cold rays across my cell. I stare into the dark abyss of this vile creature. Sadness and all negative feelings overpower me. The thing leaves and another files into view. It places a plate through a slate I did not see. Small portion of food in which I ravage and it does not taste like anything. A small glass of unclean water. I slide the dishes across the thing takes it and states directly at me. Always ice always. They're like shipwreck.

Death is in love with Life. Death forbids itself until the ever so agonizing moments of a dying being. I will happily accept the denial of Death's hand. I will cling onto life as Death sucks life out of me but refuses to take me.


	2. Chapter 2

**I haven't abandon this story. Just expect slow updates. I hope people will still find interest in this!**

I'm pleading with you, Death, fucking take my miserable bastard of a life. I've seen the sun come and go, taunting me of some outside world I am no longer part of. You've teased me for days? Weeks? Months?

I cannot die! I need to see Harry, my godson. I need him to filtrate hope inside me. I need to keep my grasp on my own life, Death, you're such a fool. I've given you my final word, Death, I will not come. Ideas keep coming into my head, of transforming myself into a dog, would the demenotors be able to sense that I am there? Would they keep feeding me because they cannot sense any human life; the smallest glimmer of human life in my cell? Or would they open my cell thinking I am dead, where I'd be able to escape passed those wretched creatures? It's something in which I need to try. I need to get out of this place; I have a place to go if and when I do escape this place.

My mother owned it, Number Twelve Grimmuald Place, even though my family has out casted me. I didn't fight for the Dark Lord, I refused, I did not want to follow down that dark path.

Stick a knife into my stomach, Death, I've seen what some Muggles are capable of doing. Those horrific torture rituals. But as I was saying, plunge that knife into my stomach and twist it. Let me die a slow painful death. Let my heart kill me, panicking due to the loss of blood; only because it doesn't know it is what is killing me; the blood is escaping like a flood of murderers and rapists escaping from prison. Free to run in the streets killing others. But I do not blame my heart, in fact, I blame you Death.

Place your cold hands upon my face, the palms aligning with the bottom of my jaw, forefingers tracing upwards , ending behind my ears. The other fingers spread out barely away from the front of my ear; pinkies just in the line of vision of my eyes. Blurred out because they're so close. Apply pressure slowly. Watch my eyes bulge out as you crush my jaw, and cheek bones.

Your putrid breath enrages me, Death. I want to escape your grip with every drop of determination like a fox chewing off its leg in those nasty Muggle contraptions called snares. I want to rip you apart; deny anything you give me to coax me to take your hand and drown me into the darkness of your cave. I want to destroy you and welcome life with open arms. You will not prevent me from seeing Harry; you will not disallow him from knowing the truth. I am not a murderer I am sane. I am sane but will offer my hand to revenge on Pettigrew; on Voldemort on his followers.

I have been betrayed by someone I thought I could trust. The betrayal has turned into mistrust by the Wizarding world. And worse, it has been handed, spoon fed to Harry Potter. A red hot rage boils within. It boils my blood so hot it sets fire to my skin; HE BETRAYED LILY AND JAMES! He betrayed them and Remus; he's betrayed everyone because he's a fucking coward. He did something wrong and ran from it. He destroyed the lives of others, oh, but do they fucking know? Or are those memories replaced with something happy; yet those memories feel empty. Do those memories feel sad? How exactly does the Ministry alter a living thing's mind? 'By magic' I mimic in my head. Please, explain to me how exactly magic alters a mind. Because I would really like go know how the Ministry manipulates one or thousands.

The food they serve is dull and only enough to physically keep me alive. I have lost count of the days and nights I have spent fighting with Death in this hollowed place. But tonight I will try turning myself into a dog; I have the ever burning desire to see if they're able to feel the mind of a dog. If not and I really do hope not, then I can escape past them. I can be free from Azkaban.

Free from Azkaban. How would I fare in the outside world? The darkness in my cell grips me. I'm so immune to feeling unhappy thoughts it no longer affects me. But the darkness still unsettles me. The darkness in my cell engulfs me: cold and soundless. Soundless and deafening. Deafening and blinding. Blinding and binding. Binding and choking. Choking and…choking and deceptive.

I go through with the plan that has been running through my head. The plan where I turn into a dog; I want to be free I want to feel the fresh air in my lungs. I don't know yet how I'm going to live, how I am going to survive in the outside world. But my concern at the moment is to escape. I look Death in the eye and spit in its face. The satisfaction increases with every minute. I can feel a wide smile spread across my face. But I do not yet feel the warmth inside me. Death still grips me I can feel the fingers tightening around my arm. Cold and ruthless because I have made the final decision not to go with it. I fight against it even if it depraves me of sleep. The sadness , the hurt, the fear those sick bastards with no faces shoving everything negative down my throat. I am used to those feelings now. Even though I still feel them, full force, I shove them aside. I refuse their hands. I eat what they serve mw and in the process plan my manipulation my evasion against them.

Tonight is the night. I am Padfoot tonight. I wait as the seconds tick by, the minutes, the hours; tick, every agonizing tick, I do not know the time. But the anxiety inside my chest builds up every time my chest heaves and falls. I can hear my heart thumping, pounding in my ears. I can feel the blood coursing through my veins. Anxiety holding onto each cell. I look at my hands and see in the faint light that they are trembling. I swallow hard and make an attempt to stand I do stand but my legs do not cooperate past that. I fall to the ground, splaying my hands on the cold concrete; my hands sting from the fall. My hands are sweaty I wipe them on my chest. The material of this clothing they gave me is rough against my skin.

It's time. I do not know the time in numbers, but somehow I know it's time for me to turn into a dog. I do so as quietly as I can; it hurts. I can feel as my ears shrink and turn into fur. I feel my snout growing, my hands and feet turning into paws. Black fur grows all over my body. It hurts but the pain is subdued as I am a complete canine. I am Padfoot.

I lay down with my head in between my legs. My nose extending just a couple of inches past my paws. There is noise in the distance, I can hear cell doors opening down the way. I can smell the food and my heart pumps furiously; I feel it hitting against the concrete. The only thing I feel is my heart slamming against the concrete. It's trying to break my ribs; trying to crack the concrete. I stifle a whimper as I move my right paw over my muzzle covering my eyes. The clacking of doors comes closer. Louder. Closer. Louder. The scent is strong. Stronger. Strongest. Loudest. Closest. The cell door next to mine closes. I hear the scraping of my cell door opening. I look up; the sadness and anger hits me hard, knocking the wind out of me. But I push back, I watch as the faceless guard holds a plate of food; it's ugly head looks around. White, thin arms extend from underneath the robe it wears; it does not put the food down. My anxiety is building up; is this a test run? Or should I make a run for it? My heart is racing even faster. I realize it's blocking the entire doorway. It leaves. The door closes. There is no food plate on the ground. It cannot sense me. I really hope it does not notify the others. I think it thinks I'm dead. It cannot detect the emotion of an animal. Only humans. I will sleep as a dog tonight. I will remain a dog until tomorrow night.

I cannot sleep. The thoughts in my head are racing; they will not calm. My body is tense with anxiety. I get up on all four paws and steady myself walking slowly over to a wall. My legs shake and my vision blurs; black edges my sight. I lean my body against the wall I can feel the cold pierce my skin even through my thick fur. I sit with my head bowed so low my nose nearly touches the ground my back legs a splayed out: I am sitting on my hip. My back touches the wall. I fall asleep without realizing it my back and side ache from carrying the weight of my sleeping body. I dreamed during the night but I cannot remember it. I vaguely remember waking up in fear but it quickly passed. My small slate of a window paints the blue of the moon on the ground. It's still night, I spin around and lie down. I am still awake when the sun finally rises, no one stirs just yet. Then I hear doors scraping the ground as they open. Coming closer and closer. My heart beats faster I stand up on all fours and I feel alive. I feel so fucking alive; electricity courses through me. Circulating the blood in my body, controlling my heart.

I am ready, the cell door next door opens, the electricity brings traces of anxiety through me. But life pushes the anxiety down to the ground and kicks it in the ribs. I hear and see my door open, my paws are firm against the ground, I make a run for it. Through the maze I suddenly find myself outside. The strong smell of salt water enters my lungs. The cold air burns them. My nostrils are on fire and I can breath. I breath the ever so welcoming salted cold air with everything I have. I breath in the spray of water. The water hits my face, hits my body soaking through my fur and it electrifies me even more than when I was in my cell ready to flee. I lift my muzzle into the air and take deep breaths

But then, I must figure out how go get across and go Grimmuld Place.


End file.
